


Salty and Sweet

by Emery



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn, Praise Kink, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Sixty-Nineing, Smut, and also frozen yogurt, because Marco and Bert are precious babies, but they also know how to get it on, in which Marco and Bert are cute, there's some serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 06:31:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1808764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emery/pseuds/Emery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The kiss doesn't last long, but it's good. Bert's mouth is warm and his tongue is soft when it slides hesitantly along Marco's, and Marco finds himself feeling an unexpected longing when Bert finally can't take anymore and pulls away. </i>
</p><p> <i>Bertholdt's eyes are trained on the ground, but his words are still clear enough for Marco to hear. "Sweet."</i></p><p>Bertholdt takes Marco out for frozen yogurt on his birthday, but what is meant as an innocent kiss leaves Bertholdt wanting something even sweeter than his strawberry syrup toppings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salty and Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Marco's birthday, which was June 16. Happy birthday, you sweet, freckled angel. <3

It's Marco's birthday, so of course Bertholdt takes him out for frozen yogurt. It's become a tradition of theirs—to wander the dark, downtown streets an hour or so after the summer sunset and eventually find their way into the little alleyway with the hole-in-the-wall yogurt shop. The flavors are different every day, always a surprise, but there's nothing better. They sit a block away, in the courtyard beneath some fancy condominiums on the wall by the fountain and the weird metal sculpture that is considered a piece of outdoor art but looks more like something Jean and Reiner would want to climb on like children. A street band plays on the corner and almost drowns out the sounds of the bustling groups of people as they leave their final stint at the bars (Marco is wondering who the hell goes to bars on Monday nights, but to each his own). Marco and Bert find themselves more like the carefree street performers, without a concern in the world as they spoon sweets into their mouth and kind of lean against each other so that every now and then their shoulders or their knees make contact and their mouths twitch upwards into a smile.

"I hope you had a good day," Bert offers, and Marco smiles back around his spoon with an enthusiastic nod.

In his mind, his birthday was perfect and simple and everything he needed. Marco is easy to please, and Jean and Reiner and Bertholdt did more than he would have asked for. "The froyo is just overkill, really."

"But you wanted it!" Bert smiles, more slyly than is usual, and inclines his head towards Marco's half-finished cup. He doesn't need to speak anymore for Marco to understand him, and the freckled youth returns to his treat with a happy heart and another, much more intentional, brush against Bertholdt's knee.

Out of the corner of his eye, Marco sees Bert set his much smaller cup aside, already finished, and momentarily feels guilty for ordering a size so large. Then again, it _is_ his birthday, and it's not like Marco worries about his weight. It's frozen yogurt, anyway. There are much unhealthier things in the world.

"Thank you," Marco says, and beams at how happy Bertholdt looks. Sometimes, Marco feels like that's his purpose in life—to keep Bertholdt happy and comfortable. It's not always an easy task, but it's worth it to see the tall man's lips quiver into a shy smile, even when his eyes are still on the ground and his long, thick eyelashes flutter along with the debate in his head over whether or not he should lift them. Marco appreciates it when, tonight, he does, and their gazes meet beneath the city lights.

Marco knows, of course, that Bert has never been one for public affectionate displays, so he's surprised but definitely not unhappy when Bert leans down and pushes his lips to Marco's. Both of their mouths are still sticky from their yogurt, but Marco pushes his mouth back against Bertholdt's anyway. He's oblivious to any stares they might be getting, and he sets his yogurt cup beside him so that he can hold Bert's face in both of his hands. Marco keeps his touches featherlight, stroking Bertholdt's cheeks with his thumbs, because it's important to Marco that Bert understands the hot flush of blood to his cheeks is okay. He _knows_ Bert is blushing, because they're kissing and they're kissing in public and people are probably watching, and hell, Bert would be blushing even if they were entirely alone behind closed doors because he's _Bert_ and that's what he does.

When Marco feels the tip of Bert's tongue push against his lips, he parts them just enough and realizes that the idea of a birthday surprise is being pushed to an entirely new level, because Bert's tongue is shyly prodding in his mouth—are those vibrations that buzz against Marco's lips a _moan_ from the taller boy?—and they are outside in a bustling court square and Bert isn't pulling away and squirming like mad.

At least not much.

The kiss doesn't last long, but it's good. Bert's mouth is warm and his tongue is soft when it slides hesitantly along Marco's, and Marco finds himself feeling an unexpected longing when Bert finally can't take anymore and pulls away.

"Bertl," Marco says, breathless, his dark honey eyes wide with shock and, more importantly, with want.

Bertholdt's eyes are trained on the ground, but his words are still clear enough for Marco to hear. "Sweet."

Marco lifts an eyebrow in a silent question as his lips quirk into a grin even bigger than the one already plastered on his freckled face.

"You taste good," Bert explains, and Marco's chest puffs with pride. He knew that was what Bert meant, but he wanted to hear him _say_ it. "I want to go home."

Marco blinks, and his brows draw together in a concerned glance because that kiss was way too much of a toll on Bert. He blames himself, a little. He knew it was too much, that Bert was only trying too hard to please him for his birthday—

When Marco moves to pick up Bert's yogurt cup and discarded spoon, his eyes light on an explanation in Bert's lap and he doesn't feel as guilty. Instead, he finds himself swiping his tongue over lips too dry and all but launching their trash into the nearest receptacle before he grabs Bert's much larger hand and pulls him away from the courtyard, back to the safety of darker sidewalks and side streets that lead back to the little house they share with Reiner and Jean. It's a twenty minute walk, if they make good time, but Bert's legs are long and Marco isn't exactly short himself, so they always do.

Not once does Marco let go of Bert's hand, even when he walks a little bit in front whenever they have to pass another person on the brick sidewalk. Bertholdt's erection isn't _that_ visible beneath the fabric of his pants, really, but Marco knows that Bert feels as if he needs to hide, regardless. There's not much conversation, just tight grips of each other's hands, lacing their fingers in and out, gripping more tightly, breaking their grips on each other to wipe sweaty palms on pant legs and immediately unite their hands again.

Marco's nerves light with pleasure every time Bert's palm presses up against his in a new, fidgety kind of way. Never before has a walk home seemed so long. Marco is struggling to keep his own arousal at bay, even as it curls in the pit of his stomach and threatens to tighten and grow hotter until he's suffering the same problem as Bert.

"Marco," Bert whines in his gentle voice, and it breaks Marco's heart that he can't have him right then and there on the way home, that he can't press Bert up against the wall of a building and shove his thigh between his legs and tangle fingers in that dark hair that he has to stretch upwards a little to reach.

"I know. I know." Marco shushes him, because it's what he's best at. "We're almost home. You're all right. It's okay."

The only response is a wordless, drawn-out noise that's half-whine and half-sigh. It breaks Marco's heart, but it's also fucking _exciting_ because Marco can hear so clearly how much Bert needs him. That thought alone is enough to have Marco's cock twitch once with anticipation—he's almost ashamed to admit how much being needed turns him on. He's lucky to have boyfriends like Bert and Jean to take care of. Marco smiles at the thought.

Bert mumbles under his breath, "What are you smiling about?" because clearly he's too embarrassed and focused on his erection to understand Marco's own inward pleasure.

"You." Marco keeps the response simple. It's for the best. Besides, it makes Bert blush again, which is decidedly adorable even if Marco understands that the flush is also a sign that he needs to be taken care of and taken care of immediately. He picks up the pace, and Bert has no trouble keeping up. The nighttime summer heat coats them like an atmospheric blanket, even with the breeze that keeps the humid air from becoming too stagnant, and Marco can feel his dessert sitting heavy in his stomach with every step he takes. On any other night, those factors would have made getting home uncomfortable, but now they are the least of his worries.

The relief is still tremendous when Marco finally has to remove his hand from Bert's in order to retrieve the housekeys from his pocket, and then they're inside. It's dark, save for the pale flashes of light from the television that bounce around the walls and the ceiling and the pretzel of two bodies and limbs asleep on the couch—Jean and Reiner.

That late, huh?

Marco barely takes time to appreciate how cute his boyfriends look—Reiner leaning into the corner of the couch and huddled around Jean, whose figure is much smaller and narrower in comparison to the hulking mass of muscle he's using like he would use a full body pillow—because he's already dragging Bert to the bedroom, and where there might normally be resistance from Bert, tonight there is none.

The tallest boy pushes Marco against the wall when they find themselves in a bedroom (the one with Jean's and Marco's belongings in it, though the matter of who sleeps in which bed has become so interchangeable that it matters little), not so much with assertiveness but with his own size. Marco finds the height difference and the way Bert has to bend down to kiss him again arousing.

It's so cute how all he seems to want is another taste of Marco's sugar-laced lips and tongue.

He all-too-happily presses back against Bert and lets him take what he wants for a moment, then turns the tables and claims Bert's mouth for his own, because Bert is sweet, too, and even when he _hasn't_ just eaten a cup of frozen yogurt, Marco can never get enough of his kisses.

"What do you want, Bertl?" Marco coos from his position sandwiched between cold plaster and Bert's much warmer, much more favorable body.

As is typical, Bert has trouble making eye contact, but tonight Marco can see the bravery glimmering in his eyes when he meets Marco's gaze for long enough to say, albeit with a stammer, "T-to taste more o-of you."

When Bert ducks his head again, Marco stands on his tiptoes and rewards him with a kiss to the cheek, making sure that Bert knows he's proud of him. "That was really good." Marco is pretty confident that the primary reason Bertholdt is so comfortable speaking openly to him is because Marco always took time to praise him when he made the effort in the past, and there's not much that Bert likes more than being praised.

Marco loves giving Bertholdt what he wants.

"Bed?" he offers, but Bert shakes his head, even when Marco quirks an eyebrow and smirks, wondering what in the world Bert could want to do that wouldn't involve—

Oh. _That._

Bertholdt nuzzles the front of Marco's jeans where his cock is straining firmly against the fabric and with nimble but trembling fingers, struggles with the button and zipper until Marco's erection is pulled free and the tip sucked between his lips.

"Bertl," Marco stops him, breathless as he watches Bert hold his cock so carefully in his long hands and taste the clear fluid beading at the tip like it's some sort of delicacy to be cherished. "You're the one who needed to be taken care of." Marco inclines his head towards Bert's own pants and the way the bulge has become even more apparent since they left the courtyard downtown. "Get on the bed," he says, spoken more like a gentle suggestion than a command because, even though Bert adores being told what to do, Marco wants to be gentle with him tonight.

Marco guides him so that Bert doesn't have to do anything on his own, holding his shoulders and helping him lie down even as he plants little kisses on Bert's chin and nips playfully at his pale throat. He's not sure their heights will allow this to work, but he's sure as hell going to try—there's no hesitation before Marco is slipping out of his pants and tossing them aside, then straddling his boyfriend's thin waist and bending down to pull Bertholdt's erection free. He holds the base in one hand and drags his tongue along the throbbing vein on the underside of the shaft. Bert's little whimper-moans are Marco's favorite, each one like a birthday present all its own, and Marco keeps licking.

"Do you want me to—" He hears Bert stammer from behind him, and he nods his head enthusiastically. With his lips wrapped around cock, the motion translates to another strained whine from Bertholdt, and Marco grins when he releases his mouth's hold on Bert's very solid, very swollen length.

"Yeah, honey. If you can reach."

It's a challenge, but Marco stretches out all he can. Normally, he might be embarrassed, or at the very least a little wary of shoving his ass into someone's face, but he knows from experience that Bert doesn't mind. They've tried stranger positions, the four of them all together—sixty-nineing is comparatively tame, Marco decides.

"I can't," Bert says. He mumbles out something else, probably about him being too tall or Marco being too short or both, but Marco feels Bertholdt shift beneath him, lean forward and prop himself up on his elbows, and then an open-mouthed kiss on one of his cheeks. "Can do this?"

Marco relishes the way his cock throbs, prompted by the feather-light touches that Bert keeps lavishing on his ass, and returns to work on Bert's member in the meantime. He swirls his tongue on the tip, the saltiness an interesting thing combined with the residual sweetness of cake batter frozen yogurt, and works to pump the base of Bert's cock with one hand and fondle his balls in the other. He can tell by the little vibrations of moans and whimpers and the way Bert nuzzles against Marco's rear that he's enjoying himself, and with as long as Bert has been waiting for this, there won't be much time before he's spilling himself into Marco's mouth.

Marco tries to focus, tries _hard_ , but it's becoming more and more difficult when Bertholdt spreads him and he feels the first gentle prod of a timid tongue against his hole. He shudders out a breath against Bert's cock and keeps pumping the base, twisting his wrist a little with just the right amount of pressure, but then that same tongue grows braver, presses harder and swirls faster, and _fuck_ Marco is pretty sure he must be leaking precum all over Bert's chest.

It's not like they didn't know this would be messy.

Stifling his moans by swallowing down Bert's cock again, Marco finds himself thankful for the television still on in the living room, which is hopefully muffling his and Bert's outward displays of pleasure. He would feel guilty waking Jean and Reiner, even when those two have woken him the same way before. Jean is hilariously loud, pornstar loud, when Reiner gets him flustered enough. Marco finds it just as endearing as the way Bertholdt's hips are twitching beneath him to bury his cock deeper down Marco's throat.

Little tears well up in the corner of Marco's eyes, but he doesn't pull back. He lets Bert do what he needs to and listens with rapt attention to the stifled whines behind him. He wants to praise Bert, tell him how well he's doing and how good his tongue feels eating out Marco's ass, but his mouth is full at the moment. He moans, instead, because he wants Bertholdt to know how much he's enjoying himself, too—maybe that will be praise enough.

The jerking upward thrust of Bert's hips tells Marco that the moan did wonders, and so he keeps going. He bobs his head, sliding down on Bert's length and humming happily on the way back up, releasing the tip from between his lips with a slick pop and _finally_ murmuring what he knows Bert wants to hear.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart." Marco is gentle, as always, understanding and focused purely on making sure Bert knows how wonderful he is. Marco lives for this—to alleviate Bert's anxiety and to provide him the reassurance he so often needs. "You're going to cum for me, and you're making me feel so good. This is the _best_ birthday."

Marco is sad to feel the warm slickness of Bert's tongue leave his hole, but he's just as pleased when he hears the taller boy flop back onto the mattress. There's a great cacophony of muffled moaning—Marco can only imagine Bert's face, flushed beet-red, hiding behind blankets and pillows as he clamps down on the fabric with his teeth to stop from screaming.

So Marco's doing a good job, too.

Just as he suspects, it only takes another minute, maybe two, before Bert's legs are trembling and Marco has to hold down those strong thighs when Bert cums. Gravity is not on his side, but Marco manages to swallow down some of the fluid, salty and sticky in his mouth and where it dribbles down his chin.

Everything is quiet, for awhile, save for Bert's panting and some late-night infomercial on the television in the next room.

"Almost better than froyo," Marco giggles when he turns back around to face Bert and lavishes his boyfriend's face with kisses and nuzzles and noserubs. It's nice to be able to do that without Reiner cooing at them, because even if he _does_ think it's cute, Marco knows it embarrasses Bert to be fawned over _too_ much. "Feel better now?"

Bert nods, but already he's trying to move and muttering, " _Your_ birthday, so _you_ have to have a turn now..."

"Rest," Marco commands. The word leaves his lips a little more firmly than he meant for it to, but it has the desired effect. Bert lays back down and closes his eyes, and Marco smiles. Fucking adorable.

He notices for the first time how insistently solid his own erection has become only when he accidentally pushes against Bert's thigh and feels tickling pleasure spread throughout his body. He's way, way too sensitive right now, and suddenly all Marco can think about is how good Bert looked on his knees in front of him before Marco took all of this to the bed. Bert really wanted to taste him, or so he claimed, and Marco's chest actually throbs with how much he wants it, too.

Bert must feel the hardness against his leg, because he pushes against Marco's groin and Marco swears that he saw the corner of Bert's lips curl into a sly grin. The expression is subtle enough that most wouldn't notice it, but Marco knows Bert and his expressions and that is definitely a teasing smile—a fucking daring move on Bert's part.

Marco is in need. A little teasing goes a long way, and he growls as he bolts upright. Bert makes a move to follow him, but Marco presses his palm flat against his chest and pushes down. "I said rest." His tone is strangely empty, because his mind is elsewhere now, focused and trained on one thing alone—Bert's mouth working around his cock.

The room seems a hundred degrees hotter than it felt five minutes ago when Marco crawls on top of Bert for the second time that night, facing the opposite direction this time and watching with amusement the way his cock happens to fall so that it rests right on Bert's cheek—a gentle caress.

"Still want a taste?" he asks in a way that's intentionally a combination of cheer and dominance. He's gotten pretty good at that, he supposes, which is good because Bertholdt sure as hell loves it.

The boy nods beneath him and turns his head against Marco's cock, which twitches at the barely-there friction against Bert's cheek. "Yeah," he replies meekly, and Marco grins down at him, running a hand through his tousled hair as a reward. When Bert speaks aloud, Marco always makes a point to praise him. For Bert to speak for himself is difficult, and Marco knows it.

"Then open up, sweetheart."

And there it is—Marco grins his most loving smile, his eyes glimmering with desire and trust and adoration, and Bertholdt's lips twitch into a smile, too, right before he parts his lips to kiss at the bead of precum on Marco's cock and put it away with a little swipe of his tongue. By now, Marco is sensitive, _so_ sensitive, and even that tiny lick is enough to have him leaning his head back and opening his own mouth in a mostly silent moan.

Bertholdt is good at what he does, surprisingly enough, because honestly he's good at everything he tries.

"You precious, talented boy," Marco coos at him, and when he glances back down at Bert he learns that he'll be finishing faster than if he kept his gaze on the ceiling—Bert looks incredible when he swallows down most of Marco's length in one perfect forward thrust of his head, and Marco settles back more comfortably on his knees to watch his boyfriend work.

Marco is visual, has always been that way, and watching Bert's lips and tongue working around him is almost enough to have him immediately emptying himself into Bert's mouth. He focuses on the salty taste that lingers in his own mouth and imagines allowing Bert that same sensation when he fists his hand into his lover's dark hair just firmly enough to keep his head steady and tug just the right amount on his scalp. Even the noises would be enough to drive anyone insane—Bert's blowjobs are neat, just the right amount of slobbery and wet without making a mess, but the slick sounds of his mouth as it works hard to please are still just one more thing to add to the ever-growing list of things that are causing the pit of heat in Marco's belly to coil tighter and tighter until he can't hold back.

As always, he thinks his cum looks good on Bert's face, but even though Bert doesn't mind the degradation, Marco can't stand to leave it there for long. He cries out Bert's name when he cums, to make him feel important, and only allows himself a few moments of rest before retrieving some tissues to wipe with care at Bert's cheeks and mouth. In the meantime, Marco tells him how well he's done.

"I think that was my favorite present," he whispers, trying his best to control his breathing against Bert's ear. "Am I as sweet as you hoped?"

Bertholdt hums in the affirmative, and Marco settles in beside his warm body and pulls the comforter over them both. He's not wearing pants or underwear, he realizes as he hooks his leg over Bert's hip and nuzzles into the side of his neck, but he really can't bring himself to care.

"I love you."

"Happy birthday, Marco."


End file.
